


The John Watson and Sherlock Holmes Trust Cause

by FatlockFills



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fatlock, Feeding, Jam, M/M, Multi, Stuffing, Weight Gain, dub-con, feederism, jamlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2014-09-03
Packaged: 2018-02-16 01:27:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2250726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FatlockFills/pseuds/FatlockFills
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt received at fatlock.tumblr.com:</p><p>Anonymous said: John and sherlock fattening Mary?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The John Watson and Sherlock Holmes Trust Cause

"Is the baby taken care of?" Mary asked, shifting her weight in the chair. Fingers opened and clothed on the hem of her loose shirt.

"Of course," John answered, circling around her and resting his hand briefly on her shoulder. The warmth of the touch soothed her a bit, but she could still hear Sherlock moving somewhere in the kitchen behind her. "Mrs. Hudson’s handled more babies than most. And we’re right upstairs."

She sat in a chair, facing 221b’s big window. Sherlock was still busy, but she could hear a regular clink. And a measured squeak. Loading a trolly, it sounded like, but that didn’t make a lot of sense. “So what’s all this, boys, then?” John flashed her a smile, and she returned it.

"We sort of… got inspired by the last few months. Before you had the baby." John dragged his old chair closer to the wooden one that they’d set up for this occasion. "Mary… It’s not that we don’t trust you."

Her smile vanished so fast she could feel the joy draining out of her face and through her boots. “What do you mean?”

"We just think that, what with one thing and another… It would be best to make sure you can’t go back to that life. So you’re not tempted. So you stay safe." John’s hand settled on her knee, and she could read nothing but sympathy in his face. Love. Concern.

"I wouldn’t. I never would." She swallowed. "How do you mean to stop me?"

"A waist size of seventy inches seemed sufficient to slow you down." Sherlock finally appeared in her peripheral vision, and he was in fact pushing a trolly. There was food on it; crisps, cakes, and a heaping plate of brownies. The second level was full entirely of bottles of cream. The lean detective gave her one of his rubber smiles. It faded the second it looked like she’d looked away. Ice threaded its way around her spine.

John squeezed her knee. “You’ll be safe. I’ll still love you, and you’ll be able to get around. Go to work, go home, take care of the baby. Just maybe not climb up the outside of a building using suction cups… or something.”

"Suction cups," she echoed, stunned.

"Yeah, or something," John said, rolling his eyes.

"You want me to be—too FAT to be a spy?"

"That’s the general idea. Do you want to start this yourself, or would you prefer John feed you?" Sherlock was busy arranging dishes as fussily as he’d once folded opera house napkins.

"I don’t want to be fat!"

"Really? You’ve already started." Sherlock looked pointedly at her middle, and Mary got a bit hot behind the eyes.

"Hey! I just had a baby!" She was suddenly very conscious of the heat where her stretched belly sagged onto the tops of her thighs. She hadn’t really lost any weight yet, but the baby was only a few weeks old, and…

"It’ll be great," John offered, sliding his hand up her leg. His finger tips dimpled her flesh just slightly beneath her dress. The sensation was distraction. "It’ll be fine. Being pregnant didn’t slow us down, being fat won’t either. Especially because you’ll be doing it for a cause."

"Cause?"

"The John Watson and Sherlock Holmes Trust Cause," Sherlock clarified, and handed Mary a pastry. "Go on, then."

"Boys," Mary started, but John took a thick, double chocolate brownie and held it to her lips. There was a brief internal war; she leaned forward, taking a bite out of it.

Fantastic. Delicious. The best thing she’d ever eaten. The gooey chunks all but glued her mouth shut, and she had to chew vigorously to get it down. Another bite. Another, and what had been a big brownie was gone. “That,” she said, brushing crumbs from the corners of her mouth, “is fantastic.”

Sherlock smiled tightly. “Yes. It should be. Try it with this.” He held out a bottle of cream.

"I’m indulging you this once," Mary said, and accepted it. She’d never drank full fat cream right from the bottle before. It was sweet. Thick. It coated her throat and made her eager for more. She was really indulging herself. Brownie after brownie, and then the sweets, and gulps of thick, heavy cream to wash it down.

She leaned back after half an hour, breath coming a little quick. John leaned forward, hands cupping her belly. Beneath the layer of fat she’d put on for the pregnancy, her stomach was stretched and bloated. “It’s a bit tight,” he said, and for a moment she didn’t know what he meant.

"A bit tight isn’t enough," Sherlock answered, and then there was a slim fingered hand holding a cheese danish to her lips. It was too rich. Any second now she’d get sick to her stomach. She bit in anyway.

Sherlock fed her. John rubbed her stomach, fingers sliding over it as she rounded out. His fingers slid beneath her paunch, lifting her belly and letting the stuffed orb bounce when he let go. It hurt, in a stretched way, and she moaned.

Both men froze. Her eyes were half closed, but she thought she could see John looking up at Sherlock. The only sound was her panting, hands cupping the sides of her mounding belly beneath the rapidly tightening dress. She could feel her panties stretched over her engorged middle. She could especially feel the relief when John reached beneath her dress, fingers cool against her hot, tight skin, and hooked the band with his fingers, dragging it down to rest beneath her belly. That got another moan, and this time she was sure they exchanged a look.

Sherlock held something to her lips. Raspberry and more chocolate. So good. Frosting clung to his fingers and she licked them. He didn’t pull away, and she pulled the first digits of his first and second fingers into her mouth. John made a choking noise. She couldn’t see him. Mary kept her eyes up, meeting Sherlock’s directly. She could practically see that perfect mind shut down behind his clear eyes.

John dragged her panties aside and she could feel the cooler air for just a moment. His fingers slid between her thighs and came away wet and sticky. Mary leaned back in the chair, head tilted back for Sherlock to cram more treats into, belly sticking out, huge and round and stretched for the world to see. She spread her thighs for John, acutely aware of the edge of the chair pressing into the backs of her soft thighs. Her heavy belly slid down between her thighs. She bucked into John’s fingers, the movement sending a ripple of pain through her abdomen.

John knelt in front of her, pushing her dress up, biting at fat, creamy skin as his fingers did the work. Sherlock was behind her, pouring cream down her throat. Eventually, his other hand slid from her chin down her neck, chest, to squeeze one of her breasts. That squeeze started the shock that would travel around her body, sending every nerve ending on fire. She bucked harder on John’s fingers, against the thumb that he’d pressed up against her clit and hadn’t let up the sensation since.

Orgasm, coupled with the mass of blood flowing to her belly, made her loose track of where she was. For a gratifyingly long time there was nothing but sensation and spasming pleasure. She returned to herself to find Sherlock wrapping a tape measure around her engorged belly.

"Yes. Good. Good progress." Sherlock sounded a bit of breath himself. She pushed herself more upright in the chair with a moan, and saw John cleaning himself up. He’d finished himself off after she’d finished. "I think we can schedule this for three times a week, adjusting for weight gain…"

John’s hand slid over her tight belly, and she was surprised by the strength of the aftershock that came. “Yeah, maybe we could push that to four,” her husband said.


End file.
